


Sneaky-Bastard Mornings

by sheafrotherdon



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-09
Updated: 2005-10-09
Packaged: 2017-10-11 23:25:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sleep-deprived Sirius turns up on Remus' doorstep, c 1980</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sneaky-Bastard Mornings

It was 11.14pm when someone tried to fit a key into the lock of Remus' front door, causing Remus to pause on his way from the bathroom to the bedroom. He squinted suspiciously down the hallway as someone tried again – a fumbling attempt that was swiftly followed by a burst of violent cursing.

Arching an eyebrow, Remus strode down the hallway to flip the lock and open the door. On the other side stood Sirius – dejected, flustered, staring in confusion at the key in his hand.

"Oh," said Sirius feebly. "This isn't my flat."

"No," said Remus, pulling him inside by the cuff of his jacket. "What are you about, you daft bastard?"

Sirius stared at the key in his hand. "I . . . do I _have_ a flat?" he asked, perplexed.

"You do." Remus pushed him down the hallway and into the living room, depositing him on the settee before wandering into the kitchen to set the kettle to boil. "It's in Belgravia and your neighbours hate you for that thing you did with the fish."

"Yes! Yes . . . " Sirius stared at the key he held before throwing it on the coffee table. "Dunno what the fuck that's for, then."

"Peter's house, perhaps," Remus suggested, ambling back from the kitchen with tea, passing a mug to Sirius. "He never was good at locking charms. Forever conjuring up hamsters in wigs when he was meant to be guarding against vampires with garlic tolerance."

"Mmmmm." Sirius stared into his mug. "What's'is."

"Tea," said Remus, eying him speculatively. "Not sleeping?"

"Oh . . . well." Sirius frowned and wet his lips. "I slept last night. A bit. Between thinking about crumpets and trying to organize my books." He suddenly smiled broadly. "I have a new system. It's called the "Which Member of My Family Would Hate This Book Most?" system. Very handy."

"I can only imagine," Remus murmured, sipping his own tea. "Any particular reason you were doing this last night?"

"Morning," Sirius corrected. "It was definitely morning, but I can forgive you for getting it muddled 'cause morning's a tricky bastard, eh? It sneaks in while you're not looking and you think it's still _night_ but then everything turns grey and shit and your Aunt Belladonna pile's twice the size of your Narcissa or Aloysius and you can't decide if there ought to be a pile for married hangers-on but really, Lucius would fucking _hate_ Watership Down, you _know_ he would."

Remus set his mug on the coffee table and plucked Sirius' from his hand. "No news about Regulus then?"

"No." Sirius sagged miserably. "Can't even find out if it's true or just a fucking rumour – which'd be like them, eh, spread that kind of news just to make me fucking mental, send me to Mungo's gibbering about fucking books about rabbits while they know damn well he hasn't run off, that he's just down the pub with Penny Goldthwaite, that Hufflepuff who can get her legs behind her ears and took the Mark cause she's got a thing for snakes."

"You need to sleep," Remus said softly.

"Pfffft," Sirius said. "Pffft. Hmmph."

"You need to sleep," Remus repeated, tugging on Sirius' sleeve until the latter gave in and leaned against him, face pressed to Remus' upper arm.

"M'so tired, and m'flat's empty and still smells of kippers," he mumbled.

"Here," Remus soothed, shifting until he was sprawled along the length of the sofa, until Sirius could tuck himself against his side, an exhausted spill of gangly limbs and faded denim, fingers folded in Remus' shirt.

"I didn't want t'bother you," he murmured, eyes closing. "S'why I organized the books. All the ones you gave me are in m'mum's pile."

Remus snorted softly. "As well they ought to be."

Sirius huffed gently. "I wanted to come here when it was night only not-night, more sneaky-bastard morning, y'know. But sometimes you're scary when you've just woken up. There was that time - ."

"You know _James_ put the fucking socks on my ears," Remus protested, jabbing him in the ribs. "How many times are you going to have to sleep with me before you trust that wasn't some bloody kink trying to get out?"

Sirius lifted his head and attempted a leer. 'Lots?" he mumbled.

"You look like you just swallowed Pepper Up with a chase of Madam Puddifoot's new line of air fresheners," Remus observed.

"Ummmphh," Sirius whimpered, laying his head back down. He sighed and closed his eyes. "You've a very reassuring bump-bu-bump going on in there, Moony,' he managed with difficulty. "I like it."

Remus rolled his eyes and patted his head. "Sleep," he whispered.

"'kay," Sirius mumbled. And with the reassuring timpani of Remus' heartbeat his lullaby, he relaxed into slumber, protected against the coming of a sneaky-bastard morning by arms that held him steady, and a kiss pressed gently against his hair.


End file.
